


that we may live in peace

by Darnaguen



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childbirth, Established Relationship, Family, Ficlet, Gen, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darnaguen/pseuds/Darnaguen
Summary: I usually never write 'happiness and babies ever after' kind of stuff. But these three, they deserve it if anyone does.This sort of came out of nowhere, but it's also kind of a companion piece and a prequel to another piece that has been living in my head for months.





	

–

Cassian frets when Jyn goes into labor. He paces around the room, flexing his fingers and muttering to himself like the most dramatic of all clichés – until she barks at him to bugger off because he’s making _her_ nervous.

*

Bodhi lifts his gaze when he stalks out of the room.

“How is she?”

“Tense.” Cassian lets out a short, dry laugh and compulsively runs a hand through his sweaty mess of hair. “I think I made it worse.” 

He pauses. “Maybe you could…?”

There is a strange new serenity about Bodhi, something that doesn’t quite remind him of Chirrut, but maybe something that is akin to Baze’s stillness and surety. _And I’m the fretful one now._

He smiles at him, warm and a little wry. “Of course,” he says and slips into the room after giving him a pat on the shoulder.

*

Jyn seems to realize her mistake halfway through a commendable litany of Huttese profanities because her rather colorful sentence ends with a pleased, subdued “…oh, hey.”

Cassian slides down the wall into a sitting position on the floor and leans his head back against the wall. Closes his eyes and listens. 

Bodhi has a nice voice, lovely even. He knows she thinks so too because she teases him mercilessly when she catches him humming or singing softly to himself while he tinkers. He can picture them now: fingers entwined, her trying not to show her pain or how moved she is – but failing, and grateful – and him with his doe-eyes, no longer haunted, and smile softened of nervous edges.

He feels his shoulders relaxing and exhales. Too tired to smile, he imagines there’s plenty of time and cause for that later.

_Maybe this is what peace feels like._

_–_


End file.
